


Magic Hands

by thestrugglingfrog



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-01
Updated: 2013-02-01
Packaged: 2017-11-27 19:31:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/665628
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thestrugglingfrog/pseuds/thestrugglingfrog
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Arthur is the Prime Minister. He is living the dream. It's everything he imagined it would be, apart from the hippie who fell out of his fireplace and started blabbering on about magic. That hadn't been part of the dream.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Magic Hands

**Author's Note:**

> This has been sitting on my computer, complete, for over 2 years. Today, I thought, 'well, how useless is that?' and decided to post it. 
> 
> Merlin fic set in Harry Potter world. Arthur is the biggest muggle that ever muggled.

He’d done it. It had taken years of work, sacrifice, and sleepless nights to be where he was today. Sitting in the chair so many greats had sat in before him (maybe not this exact chair; in fact, the chair was kind of uncomfortable. He would get a new chair). But the sentiment was the same; he was _here_. 

In the Prime Minister’s office. _His_ office. The office his father had nearly driven himself to death to attain, but had never quite gotten within reaching distance of. He’d learned from his father’s mistakes (it’s important the public doesn’t think you’re a giant dick), and had patiently made the right friends, gone to the right events, been seen with the right people, until today, he sat in his rightful place. 

He was allowing himself time to savour the moment, because he honestly hadn’t expected it. Morgana had told him so often that he was deluded and was fooling himself that he’d started to believe it during his campaign, as the tabloids did their best to dig up dirt on him from old Eton pals and the broadsheets questioned the ruling abilities of a 25 year old. 

But all that didn’t matter. He’d been Head boy at Eton. He’d been Captain of the Debating team at Oxford. He’d been leader of the Conservative party. 

And now, Arthur Pendragon, was-

-falling backwards out of his chair as something, _someone_ came tumbling out of his fireplace.

He scrambled up from the floor, eyes huge and jaw dropped, because he may only be the second youngest prime minister ever, but he was about to gain the record for the shortest appointment ever because it had only been a bloody day and he was about to get assassinated by-

By a man with messy hair and alarmingly huge ears, wearing what appeared to be a long purple robe. He was picking himself up from the ground and wiping soot from his front, muttering, “should be better at that by now”, before he seemed to remember himself, and faced Arthur with a wide grin. 

“Hello. I’m Merlin. Did anyone tell you about the magic thing?”

“The magic-” No point in talking to a mad man. He needed to alert his security as quickly as he could. What had Gwen said? There was a secret button on his desk somewhere. He hadn’t really been listening; he’d been too busy reliving the moment Barack Obama had called him a ‘shining light in dark times’. He slowly put his hand under the desk and moved it around, trying to find it. 

“What are you doing?” This man, this _freak_ , had the audacity to look at Arthur like he was _weird_. He was standing there in some hippie dress, having just tumbled through his _bloody fireplace_ , and Arthur was what was wrong with this picture?

“Who the hell are you?!” He burst out, hands abandoning their search to slam loudly on his desk. 

The man crinkled his nose and gave him a dirty look. “Alright, you could have just said no. I’m here to explain, after all. No need to yell. And I already said, my name’s-”

“You-” Arthur spluttered. “You, you come into my office, through the FIREPLACE, in a DRESS, and you are telling me not to YELL?”

All he got was an eye roll with a muttered, “and you’re clearly choosing not to listen.”

Arthur frowned at the door. Gwen was stationed just outside it whenever he was working in here, and the door wasn’t that thick. 

“GWEN! GWEN, phone for help, there’s a hippie in my office-”

“Oh for God’s sake, she can’t hear you.”

Arthur’s blood ran cold. He darted out from around his desk, grabbed the startled man by the front of his robe and slammed him against the back wall. “ _What did you do to Gwen_?”

“Nothing!” The man squeaked out, before annoyance clouded his face. “For fucks sake, this is meant to be a diplomatic meeting! I’m the Minister for Magic, you’re the new Prime Minister, we’re meant to be having tea whilst I alter your world view, I’m not meant to get manhandled against a wall!”

Arthur’s grip only tightened. “I will not have my appointment ruined by some mad hippie who has done something to my secretary-”

“Would you give it a rest!?” Before Arthur knew what had happened, he was being flung back across the room, until he lurched to a stop just in front of his desk. The man’s hand was outstretched and he looked pissed. 

“Your secretary is fine,” he began, gesturing casually towards the wall. Arthur watched uncomprehending as it faded to a translucent shade, still there but clear enough that he could see Gwen posting a message on Morgana’s Facebook wall. Just as suddenly as it’d happened, the wall faded back to its original state. 

“She can’t hear us because I cast a silencing spell around the room, so we could have some privacy. This is quite secret stuff that’s going on, by the way.” 

He must have put some hippie thing in Arthur’s tea, drugged him.

“And I have absolutely no idea what a hippie is, I am a _wizard_.” He said it slowly, like he was talking to a young child. “And there is a magical world, with a magical school, magical government, magical people, and all sorts of other wonderful magical things that you will never get to see or know or understand.” The man was trembling, fists clenched, and breathing hard. “And you will sit-” Arthur’s chair whizzed out from behind his desk, and he was pushed into it as it hit his knees from behind, “you will listen-” a fire burst into existence in his fireplace, and his chair shuffled over to rest beside it, opposite where the man had dragged a chair and sat down, “and we will drink tea, because we are important and English, and this is an important meeting upon which the state and security of both our nations rest.” A cup of steaming tea was in Arthur’s hands. 

The man paused and took a shaky sip of his own drink, before letting out a satisfied exhale and leaning back in his chair. 

Arthur hesitantly took a sip of his own tea. It was made just how he liked it. 

“Who-”

“My name is Merlin. I’m the Minister for Magic, head of the Ministry of Magic, graduate of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry, and an Aries.”

Arthur nodded, and for lack of anything else to do, took another drink of his tea. It was really quite good. 

“Magic, huh?”

Merlin nodded consolingly. “We have a lot to discuss.”

\--

They established a routine in the following weeks. Arthur was travelling the world on diplomatic missions, attending G20 meetings and attempting to renew relations with countries they’d pissed off. Yet somehow, Merlin always seemed to know when he’d be in his office. He found it a bit worrying, but figured there was nothing he could do about it; after all, he was only a ‘ _Muggle_ ’. He’d been living in ignorance his whole life, and he only knew about this whole other _nation_ of people who lived in his country because Merlin had _deemed_ to tell him about it.

That moment, Merlin came tumbling out of the fireplace, looking up at Arthur’s harsh glare from beneath his robe, which had fallen over his face. He pushed it aside and did some vague rearranging, before asking, confused, “What?” When Arthur gave no response, he repeated, “ _What_? What did I do? You’re going to have to get over this. The fact the magical world is hidden isn’t a personal attack against you, you know.”

Arthur harrumphed, and started typing quickly and angrily on his computer. He was actually writing up some notes, so he was doing work. Technically. There were more swear words in his work than usual, but Gwen could deal.

“How does this work? It uses electricity, right?” Before Arthur knew what’d happened, Merlin had poked his laptop and it had burst into flames.

Arthur jumped backwards with a yell, and Merlin swore, his hand suddenly glowing blue and subduing the fire quickly. Within seconds, the fire and smoke had disappeared into thin air, and all that was left was the charred remains of his laptop. It had been silver. Now it was black.

“You.” Arthur couldn’t get any more words out. He took a deep breath to regroup, and Merlin took the opportunity to begin blabbering.

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’ve never touched anything electric before, I didn’t know it would do that. Can we fix it? Will it be okay?”

“Well, I don’t know, _Merlin_. My laptop has never _caught fire_ before.” He stepped forward, hovering his hand over it to check for heat, and finding none he picked it up. It was a scorched ruin. He tossed it casually on the floor, watching as it cracked even more, and turned to Merlin who took a step back.

“ _Destruction follows you wherever you go_.”

“How did you know that?” Merlin muttered, quiet and confused, before he backed up to the fireplace. “I’ll...I’ll go. I’ll come back when you’re less angry.” He turned back round just when he was about to throw the strange powder in. “I’m really sorry.” He did look sorry. Despairing, even. And then he was gone.

Arthur put a call through to Gwen, and told her he was going to need a new laptop. He had no idea what to say when she came in and stared at his blackened, skeleton of a laptop on the floor, asking what the hell he’d done to it.

\--

The next time Merlin visited, he still had that same ‘shit shit, I’m really sorry’ look on his face, but this time he was holding a little parcel. “Don’t say anything!” Merlin demanded, like Arthur had been doing something other than glaring fiercely at him. “Open it.” He was gesturing the package towards Arthur, who ignored it in favour of some more glaring.

“ _You_ -” Merlin growled, resorting to opening it in an annoyed manner, muttering to himself, before he tossed a quill onto Arthur’s desk.

“A quill.” He picked it up, examining it. Yep. “ _A quill_.”

“It’s so much more than just a quill-” Merlin began, before being interrupted by Arthur.

“Is it, by any chance, a _magical_ quill?”

“It is! Look, just shut up! It’s a self-filling dictation quill. You can use it until your electronic thing is fixed.”

“It will never be fixed, it was on fire. I’m getting a new one. That’s not the point, what does this do? Dictation quill?” Arthur asked, twirling it round his fingers.

“You say ‘Dictate’, then everything you say it writes down. It’s spelled to stop working when anyone else could see it doing its stuff.” Merlin shuffled nervously, fidgeting a bit. “Is it useful? Would you rather have a foe glass-”

“Its fine,” Arthur interrupted. “It’ll be useful.” And he thought it could be. He could pace up and down his office, in front of a raging fire, while he dictated his thoughts. It sounded suitably dramatic to him. “Do I get to keep this?”

Merlin nodded, smiling, before turning back to the fireplace.

“Oi, you’re off? What about state business?”

“Oh, I just wanted to drop that off,” Merlin said easily with a grin, and then he was gone.

Arthur spent a few minutes just fiddling with his quill, before pulling out a sheet of paper and setting it down.

“Dictate.”

\--

Arthur had come to recognise the familiar sound of Merlin coming out of his fireplace. There were a few bangs and often a crack, and then Merlin would be gathered in a heap on his floor, muttering and unfurling himself clumsily.

That was why when there was a single low whooshing sound, followed by a cloaked figure stepping gracefully out of his fireplace, Arthur stumbled out of his chair, alarmed.

“Has there been a breach?” The cloaked man didn’t wait for a response as he pulled a twig out from his robe and began muttering gibberish under his breath, sweeping the room quickly and efficiently. When Arthur gave no response, he whirled around and bit out, “Well!?”

Arthur drew himself up, and snarled, “I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who the hell are you? My office isn’t a meeting place for you lot!”

“Christ, Merlin was right, you are an uptight-” he cut off abruptly, his twig glowing slightly, whilst a red mist began to form around the clock on his mantelpiece. He backed up quickly, twirling the twig in a complicated movement and yelling something, and Arthur dropped to the floor as his clock shattered into a thousand pieces.

“That was an antique, you prick!” Arthur coughed, his face closer to his carpet than he’d ever wanted it to be. He would never admit it, but as he heard the familiar clunking that always preluded Merlin’s arrival, his heart settled into a much steadier pace. He lifted himself onto his elbows on his desk, watching as the cloaked man helped Merlin onto his feet.

Merlin looked frantic, and once he spotted Arthur he lurched towards him, before stopping himself.

“Gwaine, is it here?”

“It was in the clock.” The cloaked man, Gwaine, pointed at the scorch mark that was now taking up most of Arthur’s wall over his fireplace; the mantelpiece was gone.

Merlin nodded, staring at the wall for a few seconds, before shaking his head quickly. “You need to go back, Lancelot will tell you what’s going on.” Gwaine nodded and was gone the next second.

“Merlin,” Arthur said into the resulting silence.

“I know. I know, just...” Merlin waved his hand anxiously, as he roamed the room, staring at seemingly nothing, before darting away quickly to look at something equally innocuous.

It was only after Merlin spent five minutes meticulously examining Arthur’s desk fan that Arthur repeated, “ _Merlin_ ,” in an impatient tone.

“There was a plot. One of our agents on the inside got word to us just in time. I had to go and secure Hogwarts and Gwaine came here to disarm the bomb that was meant to blow up you and Downing Street.”

“The- of course. Bomb. Right.” Arthur sat down in his desk chair with a thunk, before flinching away from his desk fan.

“No, no, it’s fine. Honest. I’m just being paranoid. Gwaine would have found anything if there was something to find. The threats have been...neutralised.” Merlin looked wrecked and frail, like a strong gust of wind would blow him straight off his feet.

“Sit down before you collapse, moron.” Merlin smiled weakly and sat down heavily in the chair opposite Arthur’s desk. Arthur gave him a few minutes to collect himself, before he asked, “Who the hell is Gwaine? And why did he have a stick?”

Merlin stared at him incredulously for a second, before he sniggered and rolled his eyes. “Gwaine is Head Auror.” Arthur nodded slowly, causing Merlin to glare slightly at him. “Did you read any of the information I gave you?”

He had, but there had been a lot to take in, and that was on top of, you know, ruling the country. “I’m a very important and busy-”

Merlin cut him off, muttering, “Save it. He’s the head of law enforcement, basically. And his ‘stick’ is his wand. You do know what a wand is, don’t you?”

“ _Yes_ ,” Arthur replied, annoyed. “I just thought it was a myth or something... I mean, you don’t have one.”

Merlin shifted uncomfortably. “Generally, in terms of magic... I tend to be the exception rather than the rule.”

Arthur frowned, and began, “What-” but Merlin was already getting up, giving his office a quick sweeping look, before he approached the fireplace.

“I’ll come back later to clean this up. I just need to check how things are on our side.”

“But on my side...everything’s fine?”

Merlin nodded firmly, before leaving in a whirl of fire.

Arthur sat back on his seat and surveyed the scattered debris spread around his office, the huge scorch mark on his wall, and the chair Merlin had been using.

He should probably get some work done. 

\--

The note had come flying, predictably, out of his fireplace. It had thwacked Arthur on the forehead, before twitching on his desk for a few minutes. He’d given it a tentative poke with his parker pen, and jumped a little as it burst open with little fireworks, relaying a message in the air in small flaming text.

He’d scribbled down what it said, and just as he finished the text exploded into little sparks which scattered around his desk. A quick examination revealed the sparks had done nothing to burn his work.

He gave the note a quick read-through whilst he shook his head. He wasn’t at Merlin’s beck and call. He couldn’t just expect Arthur to turn up at this strange location, do these strange things, and hang out with the _strange person_ who’d sent him this note.

Yet Arthur was already thinking about how he could rearrange things, what he’d tell Gwen, what he’d wear...

\--

Black, rusty, smelly. The bins looked like any other Arthur had ever seen, and he wouldn’t have given them a second glance if it hadn’t been for the graffiti sprawled in a garish red paint across the front: We Live On. Just like Merlin had described in the note. And now he had to...get into it.

He was at least thankful the bin was in an alleyway and not on the main road (he would find the silver lining). He picked up the bin lid like it was dynamite, and lurched backwards at the smell, coughing and swearing. He didn’t even want to think about what was in it. He was going to kill Merlin. Taking a deep breath, Arthur pulled the lid upwards, and began to lift his leg when he heard hysterical laughter behind him.

There went his political career. Maybe no-one would believe that the Prime Minister had been spotted climbing into a bin. Hopefully it was a tramp. A drunk tramp.

“I can’t believe you were actually going to get in the bin,” was spluttered out between breaths.

No. No-

“You must be really desperate to see the magical world, huh?”

Arthur turned slowly, and if he’d hoped the angry glare on his face would’ve quelled the laughter, he was quickly corrected. Merlin was doubled over, laughing so hard he wasn’t making sounds anymore.

“I’m- I’m- just a joke. Please. Let’s just- let’s just go.” Merlin was making vague gestures out of the alley, but seemed to be struggling to stand.

He knew it was a joke. That didn’t make it okay. No-one made a fool out of Arthur Pendragon. He turned and strode away, fists clenched in anger, ignoring the yells that followed him, and violently shrugging off the hand that tried to clutch at his shoulder.

He didn’t know how he got back to Downing Street; the entire journey was a blur. All he knew was that he’d purposefully kept this evening open so that-

With the prospect of a free, empty evening ahead of him, Arthur pulled out his stash of whiskey he kept hidden behind his cereal, and poured himself a glass.

\--

Convenient state visits had taken over his schedule; Arthur had made sure of that. If it had been a normal person he was dealing with, he could’ve just blocked their number; worst case scenario he could’ve gotten a restraining order. But Merlin- he had to deal with desperate apologies written in the steam in his bathroom mirrors, the headline of the newspaper he was reading changing to ‘BREAKING NEWS: WANKER SORRY FOR PLAYING CRUEL JOKE ON FRIEND, will do anything to make it okay’, and his spaghetti wriggling into sad faces.

Nonetheless, he ignored everything and determinedly avoided his office. It had the only fireplace hooked up to the transport system, and no magic-people could zap into the building because it had anti-zapping protection on it, so Arthur could be confident he wouldn’t run into Merlin anywhere else.

And the only reason he knew all about the magical limitations of Downing Street was because he’d read the bloody booklet Merlin had given him, just so he wouldn’t make a tit of himself when they went to this swanky wizarding pub.

Now Arthur wanted to burn it. But Prime Ministers weren’t meant to burn official documentation. Being in authority was often restricting in irritating ways.

He was standing in the reception area of his hotel, waiting for his car to come round, when a strangely familiar man was suddenly right in his face. He stumbled back, and bit out, “Can I help you?”

The man grinned, and suddenly Arthur placed him.

“You...you’re the guy who blew up my clock!” Gwaine gave an exaggerated eye roll.

“That’s what you remember, no need to thank me for saving your life.” When Arthur gave no thanks or acknowledgement of his statement, he carried on. “I’m only here because of Merlin.”

“Doing his dirty work for him are you?”

“Actually,” Gwaine paused to crack his knuckles and wink at a passing girl, “I was sent by his secretary. I don’t know how much you know, but shit is going down on our side, and Merlin is one of the only things keeping everything in order. And he’s walking around with his head in the clouds half the time. It’s not on.” Gwaine was looking at Arthur intently now, like he was searching for a certain response.

Arthur glared at him, and turned on his heel to storm away. As he did, he heard a muttered, “Unbelievable...totally deserve each other.” When he swirled around to demand just what the hell he meant by that, Gwaine was gone. 

\--

The next magical infiltration was a lot closer to home. He was going upstairs to ask Gwen to go into his office (which stood five metres away from her, and him, but he wasn’t going to risk it) and collect some files, but there was an unfamiliar man who already had her attention. Actually, he was perched on the side of her desk, and was leaning down to speak softly to her, and she in turn was leaning forward, intently listening. When he finished she burst into giggles and Arthur decided to step in with a pointed cough.

Gwen immediately sat up straight and began moving files around her desk, as the man stood up abruptly.

“Arthur Pendragon?”

“Yes,” he replied, stepping forward and not offering his hand. “And you are?”

“Lancelot, I’m here because of...” he trailed off and sent an unconscious glance towards Gwen, who was still shuffling and reordering files to make it look like she was working. Lancelot floundered for a few moments, before his shoulders fell and he just said, “Merlin.”

Arthur tensed, and began to open his mouth to say something (he didn’t know what, probably to tell Lancelot to piss off), but Lancelot’s hand cut him off with a sharp gesture, and he stepped forward to hand Arthur a piece of paper. Arthur stared at it for a few moments, before Lancelot shaking it jerked him into action, and he automatically took it.

“Merlin will be waiting here, in half an hour. He’ll stay for an hour and then leave. He hopes you understand that if you don’t show up, you two will still have to interact on a political basis, and that hopefully you can form some kind of working relationship.” Lancelot blew out a breath, the sound of a man who’d just finished a hastily memorised speech.

“He also says-” Lancelot broke off, to pause and glare a little bit at Arthur who almost took a step back, “That he’s an idiot, that you know he’s an idiot and that if you come he’ll show you how to hook up your ‘TV’ so you can watch the ‘3pm kick-offs’.”

Lancelot retreated to Gwen’s desk to grab his bag, and whilst he was there he quickly picked up a stray pen and scribbled on a piece of paper in front of her (an important piece of _government property_ ). As he left the room he gave her the universal signal for ‘call me’, accompanied by a small smile, completely ignoring Arthur’s presence.

The second he was out of sight, Gwen snatched up the piece of paper with a grin, digging under the mountain of files on her desk to retrieve her phone and began to insert the number.

Arthur slowly opened the piece of paper in his hand. Go to Neal’s Yard in Covent Garden. Tap three times on the fairy on the wall by the hairdressers. First pub on the left.

“So,” Gwen looked up from her phone, placing it down as she leant back in her chair. “Who’s Merlin?”

Arthur didn’t answer, just stood there thinking. Thinking of how he hadn’t been able to have a cup of tea since this whole thing happened. Thinking that avoiding his office was really inconvenient. Thinking about how dull his days had seemed.

Apparently he was completely out of it, because Gwen managed to pluck the paper out of his hands with no trouble. She frowned down at it.

“I know where this place is...” she trailed off to look at her phone, apparently so focused on the location that she hadn’t noticed the tapping-the-fairy bit. “And it’s rush hour. You’d better hurry if you want to get there before he leaves.”

Arthur gaped at her, before running out of the room, decision made for him by the instinct that drove him down the halls of Downing Street, bellowing for his car. 

\--

An hour and 40 minutes later, Arthur was beginning to wonder if he should’ve taken the Tube. He wasn’t sure if it’s okay for the Prime Minister to take the tube, but it would’ve surely gotten him to his destination faster than barely moving through London traffic. If Merlin kept to his own instructions, he’d be gone now.

“Where is it?” he asked his driver impatiently, looking outside his window.

“Down this road, sir, past a record store and down an alley.”

“Right,” Arthur said, as he looked out the window. The road was very, very long. Traffic was barely moving. He shoved open his door and leapt out of the car, ignoring the yells of his driver as he ran as fast as he could, ignoring the fatigue building up in him, turning eventually into the strange alleyway of Neal’s Yard. He saw the fairy painted on the wall, and frantically tapped it three times, stepping back as the fairy winked at him and drew the wall aside like a curtain, and he ducked under it unquestioningly.

Pub on the left. Ah- _The Half-Giant_. He ran again, slamming open the door, fully expecting to look like a twit and to have missed Merlin-

But no, apparently he’d lied. He was still here, despite Arthur being nearly half an hour late. He also looked the most miserable Arthur had ever seen a person look. He stared for a minute, before heading over, clicking his fingers in Merlin’s face, who looked up, bewildered.

“Why the hell did you arrange a meet-up so bloody far away, especially if you’re going to set a time limit on it?! And it’s not like you have a phone! Why don’t you have a phone? Lancelot has a phone.”

Arthur slumped down onto the bench, panting, eyes closed.

“Lancelot’s parents are Muggles. And I’m sorry, I didn’t realise, I thought everything was close in London, with the Tube and all. I- are you alright? Do you want a drink?”

Arthur managed a nod, and only opened his eyes when he heard the sound of glass being placed in front of him. He sat up quickly and grabbed the drink blindly, downing it in a few gasping breaths, letting out a long satisfied noise as he finished. Then his eyes went wide with amazement and he pulled up the bottle to stare at it.

“What is this?”

Merlin grinned at him. “Butterbeer.”

Arthur took a few breaths to let his taste buds comprehend what had just happened to them. “It’s _amazing_.”

Merlin laughed, a sweet, genuine laugh, which would have been so simple if it wasn’t tainted by how relieved it sounded. It was the laugh of a heavily-burdened man.

Arthur didn’t want him to sound like that anymore.

“And what’s this about you doing something to my telly? How the hell do you even know about 3 o’clock kick-offs? Have you even seen a game of football in your life?” Merlin squirmed almost guiltily.

“Um, it’s not exactly me, but I heard a couple of guys talking about it in the Ministry. I think they’re foreign feeds, but with magic you can improve the picture and maybe do other stuff. I don’t really know to be honest. I just know it’s to do with football. And you like football.”

“So you thought you’d use it to bribe me?” Arthur was glancing at the bar; he really wanted another butterbeer.

“More...to sweeten the deal,” Merlin said happily, and Arthur didn’t have the heart to tell him he knew about the foreign feeds, and even had his preferred sites he liked to use, when he had a rare Saturday off.

“Tell you what,” Arthur began, “promise me you’ll bring some of this butterbeer stuff to our meetings and I’ll forgive you.”

Merlin grinned and got up. “I’ll get you more now, shall I?” Arthur remembered something else and quickly spoke so Merlin wouldn’t leave yet.

“Oh, and tell me about this Lancelot guy. He seems intent on picking up my secretary and if he’s not amazing I don’t want him near her.”

Merlin laughs. “Honestly, he is one of the best people I know. If he’s interested in your secretary, it means she’s pretty awesome too. Now do you want that butterbeer or not?”

Arthur stared at him until Merlin headed to the bar, laughing, because that question didn’t need a response.

It became a regular thing, at least once a week, in wizarding pubs only. Apparently it’s normal for the Minister for Magic to drink and get merry in a pub, and Arthur wondered sometimes about the magical world, because he knew that if they ever went to his pubs, half the time would be spent ignoring the yelling of the other pub-goers, asking him what he’s going to do about tax or the state of unemployment. All Merlin got were a few waves, as people left him to his own business.

He never told this to Merlin, who would have used it against Arthur in their ongoing game of ‘What’s better: the Magical or the Muggle world?’ (Arthur had been up because of his Blackberry, then Merlin had to go and bring a chocolate frog to their next meet up).

\--

He was quietly working away in his office one day, only to be disturbed by Merlin. This in itself wasn’t unusual. The fact that he was approaching him with a mangy, torn old hat was.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, this is really unprofessional of me, just let me...”

“Merlin, what the hell are you-” Before he could finish, the hat was plonked onto his head, and he heard a voice.

“Well, well. You’re not magical.”

“ _So_ sorry,” Arthur replied sarcastically to... the hat?

“Hmm. Yes. Well, I suppose I’ll just be left here until I do my job, best get on then....Ah.”

Then the hat said a word he didn’t recognise, before politely asking to be removed from his head. Arthur did so.

“Well?” Merlin asked excitedly, looking like he was just stopping himself from actually bouncing. “What’d it say?”

Arthur shrugged. “Said I wasn’t magical. It seemed a bit miffed.”

“ _Where did it sort you?_ What house did it put you in?”

“You know I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Arthur said, irritated.

“Slytherin? Hufflepuff? Ravenclaw?” Merlin paused, and Arthur gave him a look, and shrugged. Merlin grinned. “Gryffindor?”

“Oh, it said that.”

“Ha!” Merlin did jump a bit then, before giddily grabbing the hat. “I knew it. You’re such a Gryffindor. So predictable.” Then he was gone, and Arthur was pulling out his phone to frantically text Lancelot asking him what the hell a Gryffindor was. 

\--

Shit started to happen when he received a text that said, _When are you and Merlin gonna hook up?_ Arthur stared at it for a few seconds, before it buzzed again.

This text said, as if it explained everything, _This is Gwaine on Lancelot’s phone, btw. And I don’t mean hook up hook up, I mean live the rest of your lives together, gayly_.

_WTF?_ Was the only response Arthur could think to give, so that was what he sent.

_You heard me. At first the pining was cute, now it’s lame_ , was the response he got. He needed to get a new phone, clearly. With a new number that Lancelot didn’t know as he couldn’t be trusted with such precious information. Another text buzzed through as he was trying to locate the paperwork needed to apply for said phone.

_Sorry, this is Lancelot, Gwaine stole my phone. Though he does have a point, maybe you should make a move? I don’t think Merlin knows you’re gay. Gwaine is telling me to tell you to man up! Good luck!_

Arthur knew he would always think Gwaine was just a dick, and Gwaine would no doubt always think the same about him. He and Lancelot, on the other hand, had warmed to each other after that frosty first meeting. Gwen was kind of smitten with him, and Lancelot seemed to feel the same about her, and he also liked football, which was a result. Now though, Arthur was rapidly revising his opinion.

He wasn’t gay. He’d only ever dated girls, had felt no inclination to date anyone other than girls, and in his book, that meant he was straight. Even if the only occasional lapse, hardly worthy of mention, always seemed to concern Merlin. His ears were so big, Arthur was bound to wonder what they’d look like between his legs. It was only natural.

Arthur didn’t question why he didn’t reply to the texts telling Lancelot and Gwaine as much. Or why he stopped working earlier than he’d planned to so he could get drunk in his living room, eventually reaching the point where he looked for and found gay porn in the adult section of his TV channels. He watched as men grunted and groaned and thrusted, and felt great satisfaction in the knowledge that none of it did anything for him. He just managed not to text as much to Lancelot. Unfortunately, it was then that he passed out. 

\--

He was being shaken awake. His head hurt, his mouth felt fuzzy, and there was a strange noise in the background. He pushed the hands away, muttering, “Go away Merlin.”

The hands did leave, but they’d done their job in beginning to wake him. What finished the job was when he heard a loud, extremely fake, extremely male moan coming from his TV.

He bolted upright and promptly threw up a little on his floor. It vanished as quickly as it’d appeared, which confirmed the presence of Merlin, and the multi-racial threesome currently playing on the screen in front of him confirmed the porn too.

“Bloody buggering fucking hell.”

“I feel that about sums up the situation,” was Merlin’s response. Arthur wanted to find the remote and turn off the telly, explain what had happened to Merlin, clarify his sexuality, and get on with his life. But those things involved moving and talking, and he didn’t feel up to either right now.

He let out a noise of pain as he shifted slightly on his sofa, and he heard Merlin mutter to himself before a hand suddenly appeared on his forehead. Before he could question it, a warming sensation began to flood his body, taking with it the aches and nausea and general shittiness that came with being hungover. By the time the hand left his forehead, it was gone completely. He looked up at an impatient-looking Merlin.

“You can make hangovers go away.” Merlin rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to say something, but Arthur had grabbed him and pulled into his lap before he could make a sound. “You wonderful magical man.” Arthur kissed him.

They’d been softly, slowly making out for a few minutes before Merlin abruptly pulled away. He looked panicked and confused, and he shuffled back on Arthur’s legs a little bit, though didn’t get off them, Arthur noted. “What...what the hell? You’re straight. I mean, I know,” Merlin waved his hand behind him at the fisting that was currently being shown on his 50inch screen, “But you’re not. I know you’re not. You only want me for my hangover-magic.”

“No, no, that just made me realise how amazing you are. I don’t ever not want you in my life, and all that.” He kissed him again and Merlin slid slowly more forward on his lap, until they were touching in all the right places, until he broke off again, whining, “You’re using me! You’re using me for my magic, you tool. I deserve better than this.”

While he had said all this, Merlin had been slowly running his hands up and down Arthur’s arms, and now as he finished he leaned in again but was stopped by Arthur.

“You think I would do all this for the sake of never having a hangover again? You think I’d want to be in a relationship with a _man_ who can do _magic_ who lives in a _secret world_ just for that? Stop being dumb.”

Merlin nodded, but still looked bemused. “I could have sworn you weren’t gay.”

“I’m not.” Arthur bit back a moan as Merlin rocked forward against his crotch.

“Yep, this is a very heterosexual situation we’ve got ourselves in right now,” Merlin agreed, though his hands had stopped trying to touch Arthur and he was leaning back again.

“I’m not gay, alright? That gay porn shit, did nothing for me. At all. You’re on my lap for five minutes and I’m ready to get off. Maybe, _Merlin_ , once again, you’re the exception that proves the rule. Ever think of that?”

There was a pause, and then Merlin grinned widely. “I like being the exception. I never have before but now... yeah.”

“Alright. Now maybe we should move this-” A blink later and they were sitting on an unfamiliar bed, in an unfamiliar bedroom.

“Sorry, I didn’t know where the bedroom was in your house, thought it could have been a bit dangerous, figured mine was safer,” Merlin explained as he pushed Arthur back and began to take his shirt off.

Arthur ran his hands over Merlin’s back. “I could get used to this magic stuff.”

He didn’t know what to think when Merlin grinned widely and said, in a voice brimming with anticipation, “You have no idea,” but he was looking forward to finding out.

\--

“I win, by the way.” Merlin curled into Arthur’s arms some more, as Arthur finished texting Gwen that he was ill, and to tell Lancelot that Merlin was ill too. Arthur knew he’d never hear the end of this from either of them.

“Win what?” He asked, as he put his phone on the bedside table, careful to not let it touch Merlin, as phones tended to melt if they had any contact with his skin.

“What’s better, the Magical or Muggle world.” Merlin said smugly. “My hangover-killing magic has obviously impressed you so much it made you give up your straightness, so...”

“I’ve told you already, it wasn’t that,” Arthur growled, annoyed as Merlin sniggered. But he could think of nothing. Nothing that beat Merlin and his magic hands. Shit.

“I’m going to keep thinking, but... for now, you can have a temporary victory. In exchange for my being able to use it whenever I have a hangover.”

Merlin snorted. “Just stop getting hangovers, you drunkard.” Arthur pinched Merlin’s back in retaliation.

“I am a very busy and important man, and I am allowed-”

“Oh my god, _shut up_! You talk such crap sometimes.” Merlin rolled his eyes and raked his fingernails down Arthur’s hip where his hand was.

Arthur figured this was how their relationship was going to go. As he toppled Merlin easily onto his back with his superior strength, and Merlin responded by levitating Arthur off the bed a few inches and escaping from underneath him with a laugh, he knew he couldn’t have it any other way.


End file.
